Mourning Glories
by Joyce1
Summary: "This terrifying world is not devoid of charms, of the mornings that make waking up worthwhile." (A companion piece to 'That Still Center.')


**Mourning Glories**

***

A/N: This is a companion piece to 'That Still Center'-- it's still very rough, and I'm putting it up here mainly so I can get some feedback.  This will probably work into a multi-chapter piece, depending on how much time (and inspiration) I can find.  Again, I'm going ahead an giving this an R rating-- so little ones, stay out.  This chapter is fairly benign, but I won't vouch for later chapters.

***

_Waking._

She stretched her arms out and sighed quietly into her pillow, trying to cling to the last soft edges of sleep.  Another night, another dream.  _Just a dream, she reminded herself, as she always did when she found herself almost believing that it had happened-- that he had been there, and said the things she wanted to hear, and had meant them.   She sighed softly and pulled the blankets closer, letting her mind play over the dream one last time before she made herself forget.  There had been hands, and whispered kisses, and tears-- and if she closed her eyes and let herself believe, she could almost feels his arms around her.    _

_Dream?  _

Wait.

Ginny's eyes shot open and she tensed.  She looked carefully around the room for evidence.  The fire had burnt itself out overnight, a glass of water sat on her bedside table, a quarter full.  The curtains were half open, letting a sharp sliver of early light fall across the floor-- onto a pile of fabric.  A blue robe, to be more precise-- tossed haphazardly to the ground at the base of the bed.  And lying next to it, a black shirt.  A man's black shirt.  

_She panicked-- he was going to leave.  "Give it here, Ginny," he said, reaching for the shirt she held. "No, Harry.  I won't."  She clutched the shirt with shaking hands.  If she let go now, he might not come back. _

Ginny let out a shuddering breath.  Continuing surveillance: very rumpled bed sheets.  A second pillow with a dent in it-- from a second person laying on it?  And-- Ginny did a quick check-- a very noticeable lack of clothing on her part.  __

But the critical piece of evidence was missing.  _Oh please, don't let him have left.  __I don't think I could stand that.  Ginny sat up, wrapping the sheets around her.  He couldn't have left.  His shirt was still on the floor.  He had to be somewhere, or else she was simply going mad.__  Another viable possibility.  She swung her legs over the side of the bed, and leaned forward to retrieve her robe.  There was a quiet creak of the floorboards behind her and she froze, letting the soft blue material slip from her fingers.  She straightened up slowly, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling and blood rushing in her ears._

There was silence, tangible and heavy as lead.  _What do you say, her mind raced in a quick panic, __when the man you've loved forever is standing not twelve feet away and you're afraid that he might take it all back?  __And that you wouldn't be able to keep yourself from loving him, even if he did?  She could hear him breathing, now-- heavy, shaking intakes.  If she closed her eyes she could see him: his left hand still on the knob of the bathroom door, his right clenching and unclenching  as it hung uselessly by his side.  __What do you say?_

"Harry?" she heard herself whisper.  Ginny still hadn't turned around; it was much easier to look at the soft blue fabric lying on the floor.  Footsteps-- one two three four five six-- and he was standing by the foot of the bed.

 She didn't look.  Her ears were burning, and she could feel him looking at her as the bed dipped slightly with his weight as he sat down.  There was an almost silent sigh, trembling a little like the last hiss of a deflating balloon.

"I remember dancing with you at Ron's wedding," Harry said quietly, the low tones catching her heart off-guard.  "It was a waltz.  I'm terrible at dancing, and you said something about trying to do it backwards and in high heels. I don't remember what you were wearing."  He paused for a moment.  "I should, shouldn't I?  We're supposed to remember that sort of thing.  But I don't."  Ginny wanted to smile.  Or cry; she wasn't sure which.  "I just remember that I was glad you weren't wearing gloves, like some of the girls.  I was glad that I could feel your skin against mine, even if it was only for the one dance."

He stopped again, and Ginny could hear him swallow.  "I can't let myself feel like--  I can't get too attached to people.  They all get hurt, and I couldn't let that happen.  Not to you," he added, so quietly that Ginny had to strain to hear his words.  "I knew I should forget, but I couldn't make myself do it.  Every time I closed my eyes I could feel your hand in mine."  Ginny closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe.  Harry continued, his voice coming in a rush.  "It's not fair for me to expect you to want to be with me.  There's too much to go wrong.  But God help me, Ginny, I don't know if I can let you go."  Harry sounded desperate, pleading.

Biting her lip, Ginny looked up.  Harry sat at the foot of the bed, his head cradled in his hands as though he expected the ceiling to collapse on top of him any second.  She reached out and laid a hand on his bare shoulder-- she could feel him tense under her touch.  His skin was warm under hers, making her flush with memories of the previous night.  

"Harry," she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking, "I'm not going anywhere.  I can't.  I've wanted this for ten years, Harry.  Since I was _ten.  I've wanted nothing more than the right to ask if you were okay, the right to hold you if you weren't, and to be held when I needed it."  Harry raised his head, meeting her gaze with deep green eyes that made her shiver.  "I know the risks.  I know that tomorrow, in a year, or ten that-- ," she stumbled over the words, "that something could happen.  To either one of us.  I'm not exactly in the safest line of work, you know.  But I'd rather have __this," she said, gesturing to the space between them, frustrated that the words weren't coming the way she wanted.  "I'd rather know that we at least had a few moments as an __us, Harry, than go back to pretending that I don't care that I'm not with you."  There was a moment of silence as Ginny finished, and she held her breath._

"Well, then," Harry said gruffly.  His face was impassive, and for a terrifying moment Ginny thought he would change his mind and leave.  "I guess I don't have much of a choice then, do I?" he said, a slow smile breaking over his face.  Ginny's heart soared.

"No," she agreed, smiling.  "You don't have any choice at all."  

"Really?" he asked.  He raised a hand and traced the line of her jaw with his thumb.  "I guess I'll just have to make the best of it, then."  He gave her a lopsided grin and pulled her onto his lap.  

Ginny raised a ginger-colored eyebrow.  "I guess you'd better."  Harry ran his thumb across her bottom lip.

"Harry?" 

"Yes?"  His hand was tangled in her hair, and his lips brushed by her ear.

"You are aware that I'm not wearing anything, correct?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Good."

***

"It'll be Percy, not Ron, you know."

Harry tightened his hold on Ginny, burying his head in her hair.  _Strawberries.  "What'd you say?" he asked lazily.  They'd been lying quietly in her bed, watching the room grow slowly into full daylight.  _

"I said," Ginny folded her hands on Harry's chest and rested her chin there, "that it's Percy, not Ron, you have to worry about.  He'll have kittens about this.  Ask about your prospects and intentions and so on."  Ginny grinned.  "He might even challenge you to a duel."

Harry laughed.  "And if my intentions aren't honorable?"  

Ginny looked serious.  "Oh, then it'll be a fate worse than death, I'm afraid.  He'll give you a lecture on propriety.  Where one's hands should go, the importance of a lady's reputation, what sort of behavior is acceptable in a public arena, et cetera.  And," she added, "if you're lucky, he'll throw in a free dissertation on cauldron bottoms."  Harry grinned.  

"I could give him a lecture on other sorts of bottoms," he began, pulling Ginny up for a kiss.  Ginny giggled, and pulled away.  "Where're you going?" he asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

"I have to be in at work in an hour," Ginny sighed.  "And you do too, I'm sure."  She reached over to pick her robe up from off the floor and slid it on.

"I don't, actually."  Harry sighed.  "Moody told me to take the day off."  His face grew stony and darkened.  

Ginny sat back down on the bed.  "Want to tell me what happened?" she asked quietly, not sure if she was overstepping her bounds.  

Harry shook his head.  "No, not really."  He sighed and rubbed the scar on his forehead, frustrated.  "It's just-- at the raid yesterday-- Dean Thomas went down," he said curtly.  "Our information was no good; there were too many of them.  We did what we needed to do, but we lost another Auror."  Ginny laced her fingers through his, and he squeezed them.  "The Death Eaters are fighting like they don't care whether or not they die.  They're just fighting to _fight.  And that's what Dean was doing yesterday-- it was like he was fed up with everything and just wanted out, however he could get it.  I know he saw McNair in the corner; I know he did, but he didn't try to move.  He knew it was coming.  He just gave up."  Harry paused.  "I'm not going to tell his family that, though."_

Ginny nodded.  "Probably best not to.  Have you seen them yet?"  Harry shook his head.

"No.  Dean was in the critical ward when I left, and the outlook wasn't very hopeful.  I didn't wait for his family-- had to go and make my report to Moody, and then I somehow wound up at the pub, and then...."  Harry gestured emptily with his left hand.  "I'm not looking forward to it, to tell the truth.  I should probably go down to St. Mungo's the afternoon, though, and see if-- and see what's going on.  They might need me to make an official report...," he finished weakly.

Ginny bit her lip.  "I could come with you, if you like," she said.  "I've got some time off stored up, and I'm not-- well, I'm not supposed to be anywhere right now."

"You don't need to do that, Ginny."

Ginny shrugged.  "I know.  But I'd like to, if you don't mind."

Harry squeezed her hand.  "I don't.  Thanks."  

Ginny stood up and dropped a brief kiss on Harry's forehead.  "Let me go let the office know I won't be there today.  And I don't know about you, but I'm starving.  Breakfast sound like a good idea?"

Harry smiled and pulled her down for a kiss.  "Sounds like a great idea."


End file.
